


How to Rock an Apron

by TeaAndKittens



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, baking lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndKittens/pseuds/TeaAndKittens
Summary: Keith has made many questionable life choices up to this point.  Asking Lance, his rival/crush/maybe-friend to help him not fail Home Ec might be the most questionable.Spoiler Alert:  It's because Lance is super hot in an apron.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not that any of you care how this fic was written, but this was from one of my twitter live-fic thingy majigs. If you too would like to watch me flail about while I try to come up with a coherent narrative, you can follow my twitter @teaspacekittens and ask me to join the chat. In all honesty we have a lot of fun and the people that have been hanging out while I write have done a lot to shape the direction of the few stories I've done this way. I'd love to have you join us.

If Keith were the type to do thoughtful contemplation, his current situation might be one to warrant sitting down and carefully examining all the life choices that had led to this exact moment.  Because seriously, if Lance in a pink frilly apron, singing "Call Me Maybe" and licking frosting off his fingertips didn't merit some serious fucking soul searching, then Keith could legitimately not think of any situation that would.

 

Of course, so much of this could be blamed on Shiro - like so very many horrible, humiliating experiences in Keith's life could.  But Keith suspected it might actually go back further than that entirely.  Back to the beginning of the year and the stupid new kid who'd instantly challenged Keith's title of resident juvenile delinquent and Keith's damnable inability to let anything go ever.

 

In retrospect, going all-in on a prank war with the (stupidly sexy) transfer student in his senior year, was not Keith's finest moment, but surely no amount of playing "Never Gonna Give You Up" over the PA system, or baby oiling the floor of the third hall bathrooms, was worth this level of punishment from the universe?

 

Surely he hadn't put that much bad karma out there?

 

Across the wreckage of what used to be a kitchen, Lance hit a particularly high note - spectacularly off key - and accompanied it with a particularly filthy wiggle of his hips and Keith despaired.  Of many things.  His sanity for starters.

 

Also, his taste in boys.

 

And his GPA.

 

Holy god, he was so, so fucked.

 

Keith's face must have been doing something egregious, must have done something to broadcast the fact that alarms were blaring at max volume in his brain, because Lance stopped abruptly and frowned.  "Keith?"

 

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Keith found that "stopping" was actually the last thing he wanted Lance to do - insane when he considered what Lance continuing was likely to do to his brain function - especially if "stopping" was also accompanied by "figuring out what's going on with Keith."  He grunted and turned back to the counter, hoping his blush wasn't as visible as it felt.  "This song is stupid," he bit out.

 

Lance laughed, bright and sparkling, the sound hanging in the air like floating bubbles.  His nose and the corners of his eyes crinkled in his delight and he looked so genuinely, beautifully happy, he almost hurt to look at.  "You are not fooling anyone, Mullet-brain.  I know you know every single word to this song."

 

Keith scoffed indignantly.  The fact that is was true did not matter.  What mattered is that somehow Lance had stopped taking him seriously, or at least stopped taking him seriously whenever Keith was full of shit - and that was the truly concerning part.  Somehow Lance had learned the difference between Keith being surly because he was genuinely pissed and Keith being surly because he was just trying to throw people off.  And Keith had no idea when - or how - it had happened.  He curled his lip up in a tiny ghost of snarl.  "You can't prove a thing."

 

Giggles.  Lance honest to god _giggled_ at that.  Then he caught sight of Keith's face, and again, something it was doing caught Lance's attention and he went from giggling to guffawing in 0.25 seconds, doubled over in mirth, arms wrapped around his middle.

 

Once again, Keith mourned his lost sanity and his erstwhile taste because, somehow, this idiot was what he found hot, even when he laughed at Keith while covered in flour - his apron apparently more about aesthetics than functionality.  Keith scowled down at Lance's hunched form.  "You fucking done yet?"

 

Lance actually held up a finger signalling that he still needed a minute while his laughter petered off.  When it finally died off, he reached up and wiped away a tear of mirth with a knuckle.  He smirked up at Keith.  "Okay, now I'm done."

 

There was a smudge of frosting at the corner of Lance's lip that Keith hadn't noticed until the other boy had tilted his head at this exact angle.  He looked so soft, and touchable, and approachable and Keith had never in his life wanted anything more than he wanted to reach out and touch - taste - Lance's effervescent beauty in this moment.  The tips of his fingers tingled - as if reminding him of all the nerves they had with which to feel the differing textures of Lance's skin, hair, lips - and Keith clenched them into fists. He wanted to reach out; he rolled his eyes instead.  "You might be the most ridiculous human I've ever met."

 

Lance raised both eyebrows, apparently affronted.  "Says the Duran Duran reject who shows up to bake cookies in a jacket with the collar popped."

 

Keith barked out a laugh.  "There's an argument to be made that your apron is in fact more ridiculous than my jacket."

 

Lance smirked, looking like nothing but tempting mischief.  "Yet still more appropriate for cupcake baking than leather motorcycle jackets."

 

Keith grinned, knowing it had to look at least somewhat feral by the way it pulled so sharply at his cheeks.  He leaned forward a little, daring to push just into Lance's space and feeling a little thrill race up his spine.  "You like my jacket," he taunted.

 

Lance grinned back, his eyelids falling to half-mast and turning his expression from something somewhat impish to something that looked vaguely filthy.  "I do.  Particularly the way it goes with your apron."

 

Grimacing, Keith looked down at the apron in question.  It was offensively pink and festooned with a collection of cartoon characters and yellow flowers and he hated absolutely everything about it.  At least their Home Ec teacher, while being hateful enough to insist he wear it, let him get away with just  tying it around his waist and letting the front flop over instead of forcing him to wear it properly.  He'd done that the first day, over his jacket, because the jacket.  Did.  Not.  Come.  Off.  Ever.  While he was at school, and the whole thing had just looked stupid and left him feeling ridiculous.  Which was saying something since he already felt ridiculous being in Home Ec anyway.  "I rock this apron and you fucking know it."

 

Lance tipped his head to the side.  "That may be," he paused and licked his lips.  When he continued, his voice had dropped down to a deeper register.  "But nobody pulls off an apron quite like I do.”

 

The hell of it was, the bastard was _right_.  It was unfair - really, really unfair Keith's poor beleaguered sanity interjected - how attractive Lance managed to make the same apron every other student was wearing look.  The same criminally pink shade that made the rest of them look ill somehow complimented Lance's hair and skin and made them look luminous.  The cut that didn't work on _anyone_ else made his shoulders broader, his waist thinner, and his legs longer - something about the lines it created suggested _bendy_ to Keith's brain, but Keith suspected his brain was a filthy pervert.

 

He should look just as ridiculous as the rest of them - and in a way he did - but the way he _owned it_ the way other kids tried to do and failed utterly took the absurdity and flipped it on its head and left Lance looking stupidly hot.  The combination of his brazenness and the frills and his dirty grin and his ridiculous _fucking face_ somehow added up to an overall look that was somewhere between adorable and filthy hot to the point of obscenity.

 

The things Keith had imagined doing to Lance in that apron, on top of that apron, using that apron as a prop, would haunt him for the rest of his life.  Or until his dick fell off from over-handling.

 

Of course there was no way he was actually *telling* Lance any of that.  He was horny and pathetic not suicidal, thank you.  Although there was something in the air between them, something pregnant and pulsing, a tension that felt delicious in its pressure but so close to popping Keith didn't know if there was anything they could do to maintain it.  He really didn't want to anyway.  He raised a gently mocking eyebrow.  "Strangely, you have found a way to make it work for you."

 

Grinning, Lance fluttered his eyelashes outrageously.  "Of course I do."  He smoothed his hands over the stretch of the apron over his hips.  "I'm the prettiest princess in all the land."

 

He said that without an ounce of shame, or humor, or anything else that indicated it was supposed to be a joke or something.  Keith seriously fucking loved that about him.  Lance legitimately did not care about how "masculine" he was or if others perceived him as feminine. Their second week of school, some dumb jock had thought he'd come up with a real zinger when he told Lance, "only girls take Home Ec dude, you a girl now or something, Sanchez?" and Lance had just looked at him and said, "and if I am?  You say that like it's something to be embarrassed about.  I dare you to tell my mom or one of my sisters they should be ashamed of being female."  Keith thought that might have been the moment he got in so deep.

 

So yeah, it was stupid hot that Lance was comfortable wearing girl things and calling himself a pretty princess and it not really meaning anything other than that he liked those things - but it was also stupid fucking brave of him too, and that might be what really did it for Keith.  Either way, it gave him the courage not to laugh or play it off either.  He hummed thoughtfully.  "Huh, you might just be," he muttered like he hadn't been thinking that Lance was the prettiest boy he'd ever seen on a pretty much daily basis for months.

 

The bubble of whatever between them popped - it was clear as day on Lance's face.  Heat chased shock through his expression and he ducked his head a little like he was suddenly shy.  "Yeah, you think so?"  His voice was rough, like the words had been dumped into a blender with a pound of gravel yet somehow still fragile and hopeful.

 

In a flash the inevitability of this moment exploded in Keith's brain in a shower of electric sparks.  The saying went that you saw your life flash before your eyes before you died, and this wasn't a near death experience, and it wasn't his whole life, but Keith was definitely seeing still images like bursts of memory superimposed on this moment, a replay of everything that had led him here.

 

Like he'd been asked to make a timeline, Keith relived their first argument in the hallway, Lance's opening volley in their prank war, the escalation of their stupid rivalry, and the moment when Vice Principal Iverson had caught them both red-handed trying to pull off separate pranks at the same time in the teacher's lounge and arguing over who got there first.

 

They'd of course been immediately hauled to the office and subjected to a diatribe on their lack of dicipline, but Keith couldn't remember any of the words Iverson had snarled.  It was the ghost of the self-satisfied smile Lance had flashed at Keith every time Iverson looked away the crept through Keith's brain now.  Followed by the stunned look of horror that had replaced it when the VP had dropped the bombshell that they would both have to attend a detention hour for their last period for the entire year.

 

No amount of pleading had been able to convince Iverson to change his mind about that and Keith remembered the apologetic look the guidance councilor had worn when informing the two of them that rearranging their schedules to accommodate the punishment meant the only elective available to them was Home Ec if they wanted to fit in all the requirements for graduation.

 

The images kept coming, so many overwhelming him: the first time he'd put on this ridiculous apron, the first time he'd seen lance in his, the day he realized sewing was a piece of cake, cooking he could do passably well, but baking was simply out of the question, the look on Shiro's face when he'd suggested Keith ask Lance for help with this cupcake assignment so he didn't fail (since Lance was inexplicably good at baking for some reason), the way Lance hadn't reacted like it was weird at all when Keith had caved and took Shiro's advice, the look of faint amusement on their teacher's face when they'd asked to borrow the classroom kitchen after school.

 

All of it was a clear path from that first moment to this one and Keith could see now that they had always been heading here.  The two of them were a runaway train headed for the bridge that was out - and there was no way they weren't gonna go over that cliff.  Once they'd set that first wheel in motion there was no getting off this track.  Keith could blame Iverson, or Shiro, or himself, or his hormones, or anyone else he wanted - but the truth of the matter was that fate was really the one to blame. They were destined to tumble over this edge together, go out in a blaze of glory egging each other on the whole time.

 

Knowing that made it easy - so fucking easy - to take a step, get in Lance's space, crowd him against the counter and cage him in, bracing his hands on the table, one on either side of Lance's hips.  "Mhmm."  he leaned forward and whispered the rest straight into Lance's ear.  "I think you're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

 

A fine tremor rolled up Lance's spine.  They were still close enough that it had their bodies just barely brushing against each other in interesting ways.  He sucked in a stilted breath that sounded like he only vaguely remembered how to do that breathing thing.  "I wanted you the first second I saw you," he blurted.

 

Keith pulled back enough to look at Lance, dying inside at how edible the faint blush staining the bridge of his nose made him look.  He raised an eyebrow.  "Oh yeah?"

 

Lance bit his lip and nodded, flushing darker.  "And then hated myself immediately.  Fingerless gloves.  Popped collar.  Mullet.  All things one should not have to list when describing their crush."

 

Keith just stared at him.  "You hung an eight foot poster in the gym before the first student assembly.  Of yourself.  Dabbing."  He gave Lance a pointed look.  "You think I'm not questioning my life choices constantly?"

 

That cocky little smirk of Lance's that seemed to exist just to test Keith's grip on his self control made a reappearance at that.  Lance leaned back against the counter and tipped his chin up.  "Yeah?  You come up with any answers yet?"

 

Keith leaned in closer, enough that all it would take to press their lips together would be one of them tilting their head a little.  He offered his own smug smirk.  "Is this a multiple choice question?"

 

Lance laughed, breath puffing against keith's lips.  "A) I'm a powerful warlock that has cast a spell on you, causing you to become enchanted with me.  B) You're just really into delightfully tacky shit - as evidenced by your wardrobe.  C) this was Iverson's plan all along because he figured if we were too busy hitting on each other then we couldn't have time to keep our prank war going.  or D) This was always going to happen and even though it's insane and probably very ill-advised we should just go with it and crash and burn together."

 

Keith smiled and dared to move his hands from the table to Lance's hips, heart beating wild and fast against his ribs.  "You forgot a few."

 

Lance raised an eyebrow and lifted his hands, curling them into the fabric of Keith's t-shirt just above his waist.  "Enlighten me."

 

Was flirting supposed to be this much fun?  Was it supposed to feel this much like what they used to do when they were "rivals?"  Keith's blood sang with the thrill of competition, the hind-brain desire to prove his strength and cunning to a potential mate.  It was heady, and arousing, and addictive - but most of all it was just really, really fun.  He rubbed his thumbs absently over the ridge of Lance's hipbones, noting the way every part of Lance he'd touched so far seemed to fit perfectly in his hands.  "E) This was Iverson's plan all along, but it's going to backfire because the two of us teaming up will cause him far more hell than we ever could have separately.  And F)  all of the above."

 

Lance curled his fingers tighter around the fabric of Keith's shirt, bunching it up so that his knuckles just barely grazed Keith's skin.  He smiled when Keith shivered at the light contact.  "You have a final answer, or do you need to phone a friend?"

 

A hundred witty responses pushed themselves to the forefront of Keith's brain, but he realized that the two of them could probably keep this game going forever if they wanted to.  And... Lance was touching him, _skin on skin_ and they were damn near pressed together, they were close enough that Keith could kiss him if he wanted to (spoiler alert: he very much wanted to).  So why in the _fuck_ would he worry about keeping this lively back and forth going when what he should really be trying to do is end it as quickly as possible in favor of trying to get his mouth on Lance's?  He snorted and answered, "All of the above."

 

Rolling his eyes, Lance whispered, "it's always 'all of the above,'" before surging forward and kissing Keith

 

The bottom dropped out of Keith's stomach the second their lips made contact.  He'd like to say that time slowed to a crawl and that he spent the first seconds of their first kiss cataloging the feel of Lance's mouth, studying the way they fit together, memorizing his smell.  The truth was, time sped up, impossibly fast; Keith felt like he was moving faster than the speed of light.  Nothing registered other than  _ want _ and  _ oh my god _ but even just that was enough to leave him reeling.  He groaned softly into the kiss and clutched at Lance's waist, begging.  For what, he had no idea, but he knew Lance had it regardless and he was beyond desperate to have it.

 

Lance made an answering needy noise and parted his lips slightly.  The fingers he had wrapped around Keith's shirt kept opening and closing slightly, like he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do with his hands.

 

The parting of Lance's lips was an invitation that Keith didn't need to be given twice.  He pushed his tongue into Lance's mouth eagerly, curling it over every surface inside randomly, indecisive about what parts to taste first.  Lance was sweet like the frosting he'd been sampling all afternoon.  That was the only coherent thought Keith could muster before everything became hot and slick and thinking was a thing his brain just... _ didn't _ anymore.

 

Lance whimpered softly and the movement of his lips and tongue became frantic.  He arched his body, obviously trying to get as close to Keith as physically possible.  He was acting like he couldn't quite get enough.

 

Instinct.  It was goddamned  _ instinct _ that had Keith lifting his hands up to cup Lance's cheeks.  Hearing that distressed little noise, sensing the other boy's desperation, Keith's bone deep  _ need _ to comfort him - those were the only things in the known universe capable of prying Keith's hands off of Lance now that he'd gotten them on him.  But without thought he'd cradled Lance's face, gentled the kiss into something playful and sensual with leisurely rolls of the tongue and lingering sucks replacing the frenzied, biting kisses of before, telling Lance with his actions and his body that he was here, he wasn't going anywhere, so there was no need to rush.  Because he sure the hell wasn't about to separate their mouths long enough to say it verbally.

 

Lance sighed into the kiss and his whole body went boneless, giving himself over to the languid, indulgent pace Keith was setting for them.  The corners of his mouth lifted like he was trying to smile even while his tongue was playing tag with Keith's.  He tipped his chin to change the angle and snaked his arms around Keith's waist.

 

Joy, fierce and debilitating, popped and crackled like fireworks in Keith's brain.  He leaned in, pressing his weight against Lance's body and forcing him back against the table.  Heat was building in his gut and his lower body was tingling - if they kept this up, he was going to have a  _ situation _ to deal with.  God he hoped they kept this up.

 

Lance's arms tightened around Keith, pulling him closer and he opens his mouth wider to invite an even deeper kiss.

 

Keith shuddered and was just about to take Lance's unspoken invitation to lay further claim to his mouth, when they were interrupted.  Loudly.

 

"You have GOT to be kidding me," Hunk wailed dramatically from the doorway.

 

Keith pulled away from Lance reluctantly, even with their audience.  He could feel the blush creeping across his cheeks and he chose to watch Lance and the reactions playing themselves out across his face rather than turn and answer Hunk.

 

Lance groaned painfully.  "Hunk, my man.  Not the best timing here."  He pouted up at Keith.  Then Hunk's words actually seemed to register because he leaned around Keith to scowl at his friend.  "Also: what the fuck, bro?"

 

Hunk shuffled into the room and waved his arms wildly.  "I mean, it's about time and congrats and all, but if you want to talk about bad timing - your cupcakes are burning.  I thought you were supposed to be helping him  _ pass _ this class."

 

"Shit!"  Keith scrambled away from Lance and toward the oven.  Now that his entire existence wasn't focused completely on Lance, Keith could smell the faint odor of overcooked baked goods floating through the air.  He pried the oven open and stared forlornly at the cupcakes.  They were definitely too dark.

 

Lance appeared next to his shoulder and groaned at the sight of the cupcakes, apparently reaching the same conclusion as Keith.  "Yep.  Those are fucked."

 

Sheepish grin firmly in place, Keith turned to look at him over his shoulder.  "Sorry," he whispered.

 

Lance smiled softly at him, a smile Keith had never seen before.  "Worth it though."

 

Keith felt his lips curl into something just as soft and sweet.  "Yeah?"  Not his most intelligent response ever for sure, but he was pretty sure Lance had managed to melt his brain with his tongue.

 

Lance bit his lip and nodded.  "Completely," he answered.

 

"Do either of you plan on taking the cupcakes out of the oven?  Or do you plan there smiling at each other like idiots until they catch on fire?"  Hunk questioned from somewhere behind them.

  
  


Shaking himself out of his stupor, Keith took the pot holder Lance handed him and pulled their failed cupcakes out of the oven.  "Shit," he repeated.

 

Lance poked at one of the cupcakes with a thoughtful expression.  He turned to look at Hunk.  "Maybe they'll be alright with the icing on them?"

 

Hunk raised a doubtful eyebrow at that.  "Yeah, I don't think those can be saved."

 

Lance pulled his phone out and frowned at the display.  "Fuck.  Mrs. Haggar said we could only have the kitchen for an hour and a half this afternoon - and you know what a witch she can be about rules.  That's not enough time to make another batch."  He sighed, looking truly upset.  "What are we going to do?"

 

Keith knew intellectually that he should be worried about the fact that if he failed this assignment was the only thing that would salvage his grade this semester and it looked to be a complete disaster in the making, he really knew that.  Only, he couldn't stop feeling warm and flustered at the way Lance had just said "we" instead of "you" without hesitation.  He shrugged.  "I can just take the F.  It's not a big deal."

 

Lance stared at him like a he was a moron.  "Uh, yeah it is.  C'mon man, if you flunk out of fucking  _ Home Ec _ then Iverson wins.  Do you really want to let that d-bag beat you with fucking cupcakes?"

 

Hunk groaned.  "The melodrama is strong with this one."

 

Keith raked a hand through his hair.  "I'd do them at home, but I don't have all the pans and stuff."

 

Lance bit his lip and smiled kind of shyly up at Keith.  "You could come do them at my house.  If you wanted."

 

A grateful smile stretched across Keith's face, even as a few dirty ideas about what else they could do too flooded his imagination.  He opened his mouth to reply enthusiastically in the affirmative and -

 

"No," Hunk cut him off.  "Absolutely not."  He slashed his hand through the air like a blade to emphasize his point.  "As glad as I am that the two of you have finally gotten your shit together, I cannot trust you two to actually bake any cupcakes and not just make out instead."  He smiled.  "We'll go back to my house and I'll help you make sure your boyfriend doesn't flunk Home Ec.  You don't have a double boiler anyway Lance."

 

Lance smiled brightly over at Hunk.  "Thanks buddy, you're the best."

 

It was sort of obvious how neither of them protested the "boyfriend" comment, even though they hadn't actually gotten around to talking about where this was going before getting their mouths on each other.  Keith nodded over at Hunk and said, "yeah, thanks," because he couldn't think about that other thing without spontaneously combusting right now.

 

Hunk smiled wide and rubbed the back of his head.  "Yeah, sure."  Then he frowned a little.  "I'm not helping you clean this mess up though."

 

Keith shrugged, feeling very magnanimous for some reason.  "Fair enough."  He turned to Lance.  "You ready to do this?"  It was supposed to be a joke about dealing with the frankly  _ abysmal _ state of the Home Ec kitchen, but Keith feared it came out far more serious and nuanced than he meant it to.

 

That same soft, sweet smile flittered over Lance's lips.  "I was born ready."  Despite the obvious humor in the response, it also came out a little too sincere to simply be a flippant quip.

 

"Good," Keith breathed out.  "Then let's get started."  Lance's answering smile told Keith that he they'd  _ already _ started something and Keith felt giddy at the prospect that this was  _ just _ the beginning; he couldn't wait to see where they went from here.

  
Although wherever it was, he hoped Lance brought the apron.


End file.
